


Thrawn Coffeeshop AU

by MsThrawnuruodo



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Book: The Thrawn Trilogy: Heir to the Empire, F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Not Another Coffeeshop AU, Thrawn Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 16:40:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14193219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsThrawnuruodo/pseuds/MsThrawnuruodo
Summary: When the oblivious bearded guy in the plaid shirt makes Straet spill her Mint Mojito at Philz, the handsome tall barista comes over to help...





	Thrawn Coffeeshop AU

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little fluff for Thrawn, Actually. Also, I have no idea if military service is mandatory in Denmark, but hey...it’s art!

It was really the fault of the bearded guy in the plaid shirt. If he hadn’t scraped his chair back from his table without looking, thereby jostling Straet, everything would have been fine. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move on her part to have been using her Macbook as a tray as she squeezed her way back to her favorite table, the one with the outlet, looking forward to a solid hour of writing her guilty pleasure, a Star Wars fanfic on AO3, before her Advanced Anatomy class, but because the oblivious green plaid shirt guy hadn’t bothered to look--

“Uh--” the cup that had been balanced precariously on Straet’s Macbook tipped.

She managed to catch the large Mint Mojito, Philz’ Coffee’s specialty iced drink with actual sprigs of mint in the coffee— Straet’s was made to her specifications with extra regular soy milk and medium sweet. All would have been well, except she didn’t realize that she hadn’t capped the lid all the the way. As she grabbed the recycled paper cup, she squeezed too tightly. It squirted out of her grasp, spewing all the sweet liquid goodness and precious caffeine. Straet needed that caffeine. She had been up all night studying, waking up at dawn, her face smashed against her Netter anatomy book. She twisted hard, managed to turn her body so not the people seated at the table next to Plaid Shirt, and even more importantly, she was only slightly sorry to think, her MacBook, weren’t at the receiving end of her spill. The lacy white sleeve of her silk blouse and the hardwood floor of Philz took the brunt of the spill.

 

“Damn it!” she said out loud as she swore even more under her breath. She stretched out her arm, waving her bell sleeve. The once pristine white was now a splotchy mocha pattern, probably ruined. Straet rushed to the wood table where the napkins were kept with the wooden stirrers--no bad plastics at Philz-- along with every sweetener imaginable, from stevia to honey was stored. She groaned as coffee dripped off her wrist.

“Is something the matter?” a masculine voice asked her from behind. Straet dumped the dripping empty cup with its few remaining wilted mint leaves into the trash. She reached for a napkin as she turned around. It was the good looking barista who had made her drink. She had only ever seen him behind the coffee bar as he methodically hand poured filtered coffees, his austere features focused, his expression serious. She had noted he was tall, but standing behind her, in his crisp white apron, a white oxford shirt, dark skinny jeans and short black boots, she hadn’t realized quite how tall he was or quite how broad his shoulders were. Something about standing across from him felt completely different now that they weren’t separated by the coffee bar. His eyes glittered down at her. She realized he was waiting for her to speak. 

“I spilled my coffee,” she said, collecting her scattered thoughts. “I shouldn’t have worn white.” She pointed vaguely in the direction of the spill. “I’m so sorry,” she said, grabbing more napkins to throw on the floor. Straet looked at the coffee staining the floor and the brown blooming across her white blouse. "But my Mojito...it was so artfully done."

He glanced backwards, “Ah,” he said. “No need to apologize, and no need for those,” he looked at the fistful of brown recycled napkins she was holding. “The mop will be a more efficient use of resources. I will get the new guy to take care of it." He turned around. "Hey Rookie, come clean this up." He called out. A short guy with floppy messy hair that Straet had never seen before darted out from the kitchen area. He looked at Straet, and the floor. Sniffing, he grabbed a mop and began to clean the floor, shooting Straet a furitive dirty look." Straet looked at the tall barista. who gave her an elegant half shrug. "He has his uses."

“Oh, umm, I’m sorry,” Straet said heat rising to her cheeks. Not only was she guilty of making a mess but now she was wasting trees and wasting the rookie guys time.

His lips quirked up in a small smile. “Again, no need for apologies. I will make you another coffee. A large mint mojito, extra regular soy milk, medium sweet, if I am correct?”

“Wow, you remember,” Straet said, looking up at him. Now that she’d actually spoken more than a few words to him, she could fully appreciate his accent. Something European. Not Eastern, not French, not German. Whatever it was, it was kinda sexy. She needed to get out more. Since when was hearing extra soy milk, no matter what the accent, her definition of sexy?

“Indeed,” he replied, his lips twitching in another small smile, “It is the drink you most frequently order.” He gestured with his arm, “Please be seated, I will bring it to you.”

“That’s okay,” Straet said, increasingly flustered though she wasn’t sure why. “I’ll wait here.”

“That corner seat you prefer is currently vacant,” he said, looking over his shoulder again. Straet followed his gaze to her favorite seat. “It may not remain so.”

“Umm, okay?” she said. This time she navigated her way to her corner without mishap. She sat, patting her shirt sleeve dry, watching return to the coffee bar and make more coffee. The coffee shop had emptied out and it was now quiet, save for the EDM that was playing. One could never tell what would play on the sound system of Philz, since the music was a composite playlist of all the baristas’ favorite songs.

Her barista-- why did she just think of him as that, he wasn’t her barista-- the super good looking, tall-- no! Straet corralled her skittering thoughts. The barista returned, a large mint mojito in one hand and what smelled like a Philtered Soul, black, in the other. He handed her the Mint Mojito.

“Thank you,” Straet said, rising to accept it. It felt rude for some reason, to stay seated, make him feel like her was serving her. 

“You are most welcome,” he replied somberly.

“I’m sorry for making that mess,” she said. “I should have capped my cup better.”

“Anyone can make a mistake. But a mistake doesn’t become an error until you choose not to correct it. You already have a plan to prevent such an error.”

The words sounded familiar but Straet couldn’t quite place it. “Who is that coffee for?” she asked instead.

“Myself,” he replied. “I am,” he glanced at his Apple watch which lit up with a flick of his wrist, “on my break.”

“Do you want to join me?” Straet asked impulsively. Then she immediately wanted to slap her forehead. What if he didn’t? What if baristas weren’t allowed to fraternize with customers? Had she just made all her future visits to Philz super awkward? Would she have to wait in excruciating embarrassment in the ridiculous ever present line at Philz, hoping he wasn’t going to be the one who made her coffee? Worst of all, would she be forced to go to Starbucks? She might as well be exiled on a barren jungle planet in the middle of nowhere. She bit her lip.

His eyes narrowed for a second on her lips before meeting her eyes. “It would be my pleasure.” Straet sat back down as he pulled a chair to join her. She pulled her backpack off the table.

“I am curious,” he said as he sat, “Why did you say should not have worn white?” He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes meeting hers.

“What?” Straet asked. He raised a brow. He must think she’s totally dumb. She felt her cheeks flush. She realized what he had been referring to. “Oh, you mean my spill?” She raised her right hand, so he could see the stained bell sleeve of her blouse. “Because I always manage to ruin something white. Unlike you.” She pointed to his shirt. 

“I wear an apron.”

“It’s white too, and totally spotless. How do you do that?”

“That is a Philz secret,” he said. His teeth gleamed with a sudden flash of his smile. His raven hair, she noticed was so black it was almost blue.

“That couldn’t be true,” Straet protested with a laugh, “The other baristas wear dark aprons. You—“ she waved at his chest, “Are a showoff.” He laughed again and when he did, Straet realized he looked quite different than the serious expression he always wore when making coffees.

“My name is Straet,” she said putting down her cup and extending her hand.

“My name is Mikkelthrawnsen. My friends call me Thrawn.” He took her hand and shook it conventionally but Straet had a vivid impression of him taking her hand and kissing the back of it. It had to be his accent getting to her imagination. She probably needed more sleep.

“That’s an impressively long name,” she said.

“It is Danish, as am I.” Who knew Danes could sound so sexy, Straet thought. She had always thought British accents were the best. Even her Siri was set to the male British voice. Move over, James Bond. She might need to change the accent on her Iphone. She smiled at Thrawn, then looked down at are coffee.

“How is it?” Thrawn asked. 

Straet took a sip. “Perfect,” she said. “You always get it right.” For a moment they just smiled at each other. You always get it right? Omg. She probably sounded like she was coming on to him! She was such a dork!

His watch beeped. “I must return to work.” He smiled down at Straet as he stood up. 

“Thank you for the coffee, Thrawn,” Straet said.

“At the risk of sounding repetitive, it is my pleasure, Straet.” He sounded a little shy as he said it, but that was probably her decidedly overactive imagination.

The next three times she came to Philz, Thrawn was somehow always the next free barista. The third time, Straet wondered about the odds of it happening. Granted, he was almost always the one who made her coffees before, except when Philz was super busy, but now...It was as if the baristas had some unspoken agreement. Were the baristas colluding?

“I can help the next customer,” Thrawn would say looking at her, a small smile playing on his lips. Then as she’d approach his station, he would simply, wordlessly have her coffee ready for her, continuously moving with a cool efficiency which she found fascinating, his white oxfords and white aprons crisp and spotless. She would smile and nod and take her coffee, unsure of what to say.

The fourth time he made her coffee she said, “Thank you, Thrawn. I still can’t figure out how you keep your apron so perfect.” He set her coffee down in front of her with a wink.

“Philz secret,” he said.

Straet shook her head, “Your secret.” She walked over to the counter to pay but she was distracted by the pastries. She had skipped breakfast this morning and her stomach growled in irritation. She hunched over, looking through the glass at the array of choices in front of her. Everything was good at Philz. Straet was torn between the thick, sugar topped blueberry scone and fat brown blueberry bran muffin. 

“Maybe you should consider the Danish,” the cashier said.

“What?” Straet looked up startled. She wasn’t the only one. Thrawn, in the process of taking off his apron, paused at the swinging doors into the kitchen.

The cashier’s plastic name tag read Mary. She looked vaguely familiar. 

“I haven’t had it myself, but I think you might be the type to appreciate the Danish,” Mary said looking through her glasses between Thrawn and Straet with a mischievous expression. Thrawn looked at Straet, his expression wary. “Look at how delectable it is,” Mary said with a raised brow. “Smooth, rich, European. So much better than those run of the mill muffins. They’re so common.”

“I’m game,” Straet said trying not to blush. “Who can resist a pastry with a pitch like that?” 

“Who indeed,” Thrawn muttered. He looked at Straet. “Please be seated, I will bring it to you,” Thrawn said.

“Heated?” Mary asked as she rang Straet up.

Straet nodded. “Thanks,” she said as she turned to sit at her table.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Mary laughed. 

Straet turned back to give Mary a questioning look.

“One hot Danish coming right up,” Mary said, her laugh nearly a cackle.

Straet sat at her table with anatomy index cards, half amused, half embarrassed by Mary. Thrawn came over with the Danish on a small plate.

“Don’t forget you’re on your break,” Mary called out. “What are you going to do with all that free time?”

Thrawn actually rolled his eyes, faint color staining his cheeks. 

“Don’t feel obligated, but you could join me, if you’d like.” Straet said. 

Thrawn placed Danish on the table. He glanced back at Mary, who was watching them. “Yes,” he said with an amused smile. “It may be the wiser course of action. I will get my lunch.” He returned a few minutes later with a sandwich and another Philtered Soul, black. Straet shuffled her anatomy cards as he sat down.

“Mary believes she has seen you when she was working in the emergency room. She’s a night shift nurse there. Are you a medical student?”

Straet waved her index cards with a rueful smile. “Guilty as charged,” she said. She couldn’t seem to stop smiling at Thrawn. He was smiling at her, too. She bit her lip and looked back down at her cards.

“Would you like me to quiz you?” Thrawn asked. Straet looked up at him, surprised. 

“Wouldn’t you rather eat your lunch?” Straet asked.

“I do not see how one activity precludes the other,” Thrawn countered. 

“I do have a test coming up, and that would be nice,” Straet relented.

He reached for the cards. Straet handed them to him. He shuffled them, a small frown creasing his forehead as he scanned the cards. No doubt wondering how to pronounce all the complex Latin names.

“Innervation of the brachioradialis,” Thrawn said flawlessly, albeit with his accent. “Are you studying the upper extremity?” he asked.

“I am, and I’m impressed,” Straet said. “Have you studied anatomy?”

“I have studied many things,” Thrawn said with a mysterious smile. “Let us proceed.” 

********  
The anatomy test had gone well. Today, she decided, she would finally get to her fanfic again. She took a sip of her coffee. She needed inspiration for one of the male characters. He was wasn’t going to be the hero of the story, but he was going to flirt with her OFMC, so he had to be cute. Not just cute. Hot. This was fantasy after all. Who didn’t want to be hit on by hot guys all the time?

Straet looked up and nearly sputtered her coffee when the next customer walked in. It was Ray Mall, the new kickboxing instructor at at 24 Hour Fitness. She had taken his class last week because her anatomy lab partner, Michelle, had told her how cute he was. Michelle hadn’t been lying. The Handsome Hawaiian, as he was nicknamed, stood in front of a barista ordering, Straet couldn’t help but remember how defined he was when he flexed with each punch to the heavy bag, demonstrating the proper technique for upper cuts. Straet could have sworn some of the women in the class pretended not to understand just to get him to repeat his moves. Not that she blamed them.

Straet noticed that Mary was staring at Ray, too. Ray went over to pay and when he was done, Mary crooked her finger at Straet. “Might I recommend the pineapple scone?” Mary asked Straet after Ray walked to a table with his pastry and coffee.

Straet pushed away from her table. She walked to the pastry counter. She glanced back at the coffee bar. Thrawn looking at her. He raised a brow. Smiling, Straet turned back to Mary.

“I think I prefer the Danish,” she said. “But maybe you need to sample the pineapple,” Straet added, glancing back at Ray. He waved to her and Mary, giving them a big, white toothed grin.

“No way,” Mary’s voice nearly squeaked. 

“Hey Ray,” Straet said with an a slightly evil smirk. Mary turned beet red. Payback was so sweet, Straet thought. “Come meet my friend, Mary.” After the introductions were done, she glanced at Thrawn. His usual cool demeanor was replaced with an openly amused look. She returned to her seat, continued to study.

Straet smelled the Philtered Soul before Thrawn seated his tall, lean form across from her.

“My family sent me here to study American coffee shops,” he said, stretching his long legs out. He tapped a finger on the side of his brown paper cup. “They own a large conglomerate, and are considering whether an alliance with an American coffee company could take on the outside European companies.”

Straet nodded, fascinated. “And?” she prompted.

His bright eyes met hers, a wry grin on his face. “I am finding my education is far exceeding my initial goal.” His lips quirked up as he leaned in towards her. “I admire your strategy with Mary. I have been calculating exactly how to neutralize her, but your solution was elegant in its simplicity.” 

They both looked over at Mary and Ray, who were still chatting animatedly. Ray pointed to his right shoulder, and unnecessarily flexed all too many of his arm muscles, apparently showing Mary some sort of injury. Mary looked concerned and was cooing sympathetically, palpating his deltoid.

"Do you think they have a chance?" Straet asked hopefully.

Thrawn tapped the table thoughtfully. "Mary likes to drink Mocha Tesoras with honey and almond milk. It is a strong coffee, but she lightens it quite a bit. He ordered an Ecstatic with 2% organic milk. A straightforward, if simple blend. I predict they will be a harmonious match."

"You can tell that by the coffee they drink?"

Straet's tone conveyed her slight incredulousness.

"Coffee is an art. It can be quite revealing," Thrawn said levelly.

Straet nodded at Thrawn's coffee. "I see you like keeping it on the dark side. What does my coffee say about me?" 

Thrawn looked at Straet and her coffee pensively. "Large mint mojito, extra regular soy milk, medium sweet." He tapped his fingers on the table again. "I believe you are someone who knows what exactly she wants," he said.

Straet suddenly felt shy. "Maybe I should mix up my coffee orders to keep you guessing, in that case." She turned and looked back at Ray and Mary. "I'm glad you think they have a chance." 

“I believe Mary may owe you a debt of gratitude,” Thrawn said as they both looked back at each other. “As I owe her one.”

“You?” Straet asked.

“I understand you prefer the Danish,” Thrawn said, his hands steepled. “If that is so, would you like to go out to dinner and a movie?” he continued.

When her cheeks were no longer quite so flaming, Straet looked back at Thrawn. “So you’re a Danish heir, studying coffee brewing so you can create a coffee empire?” she asked.

“I will inherit the corporation, yes,” Thrawn said. “And I hope we will conquer unknown regions beyond Denmark. The conglomerate is composed of many businesses beyond coffee. But, yes, essentially, that is correct.”

"Heir to an empire...It seems like a lot of responsibility," Straet said slowly. She shook her head. "How do you top that?"

"With a couple of top selling sequels," Thrawn said. He tapped his chest lightly, "And hopefully a happy ending."

"For you," Straet said. 

"Indeed," Thrawn said tapping his fingers. "I do hate the unexpected, though one must be prepared for all contingencies."

"Don't worry Thrawn," Straet put her hand over his. "I've got your back."

"Yes," Thrawn said. "I believe you do." They both watched the rookie cleaning up another coffee spill. Straet didn't care for the look in his beady eyes. Straet turned back to Thrawn. “I'm still curious how you can pour coffee all day without getting it on your white uniform.”

Thrawn laughed. It transformed his austere face. “Military service is mandatory in Denmark. I was a junior officer in the Royal Danish Navy. If one can pour coffee while on the ice cutter Chimaera while navigating the vast Arctic Ocean, one can pour coffee without spilling anywhere in the galaxy.” He leaned in closer to Straet, placed a warm hand over hers. “Any more questions, Straet?”

“I’m sure I’ll think of many more...over dinner,” she said. She looked up at Thrawn’s pleased smile, matched his with one of her own. “As for a movie, I happen to have all of Star Wars on iTunes…”


End file.
